


Thirteen Nights

by KateKintail



Category: Firefly
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-03
Updated: 2013-02-03
Packaged: 2017-11-28 02:14:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/669087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KateKintail/pseuds/KateKintail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jayne visits Simon every night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thirteen Nights

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Not my world or characters. I don't make any money from this fanfic.
> 
> Notes: Written for a porn battle with the prompts: Jayne Cobb/Simon Tam, rough sex, deep-throating, hands, stubble, messy, beard-burn, fruit, wholesome

On the first night, Simon woke to what sounded like fingertips scratching against the door to him room. Figuring it must be River, he got up to let her in. Only it was Jayne standing there, shirtless, unshaven, a bulge in shorts. Figuring Jayne must be ill or wounded, Simon reached for his coat, so he wouldn’t be padding around the infirmary in his underwear. Only he didn’t make it out of the room. Jayne came at him. There was a rough kiss, that practically missed his lips but landed just where it needed to. Simon found himself back on his bed, with Jayne slipping his cock out and sliding into Simon with spit as his only lubricant and with no readying whatsoever. Simon screamed into his pillow, not wanting to wake the whole gorram ship. But when it was over, he pulled Jayne closer, legs and arms wrapped around him, and kissed him deeply, properly.

On the second night, Simon heard the light almost scratching sound again. He opened it to find Jayne hovering on the doorstep. “Can I help you?” Jayne reached out and took his hand, guiding it over to his own crotch. Simon’s fingers flexed and cupped around the warm, moist crotch barely covered in shorts and felt himself stiffen in response. Jayne uttered a gruff affirmation and Simon pulled him inside.

On the third night, Simon brought some cream from the infirmary, and when Jayne entered him, it didn’t hurt nearly so much. Jayne didn’t have to clap his hand over Simon’s mouth to keep him quiet, and Simon sort of missed that. He wanted Jayne’s hands all over him. And suddenly, as if he’d wished for it out loud, they were. Fingers slid over his chest. Fingers tweezed his nipples. Fingers played with the hair nested about his hard cock.

On the fourth night, Simon left the door unlocked. He lay naked in bed, slipping in and out of sleep. When he was asleep, he dreamed of sex. When he was awake, he played with himself lazily, not wanting to come just yet. And just when he thought Jayne wouldn’t come, just when he thought this crazy whatever-it-was was over, the door opened and Jayne walked in. His face lit up at the sight. His grin grew. He closed the door behind him as he plunged his hand into his shorts.

On the fifth night, Simon lay on his stomach, ass in the air. Jayne groaned with pleasure as his slippery cock slid in. He rode Simon, rocking back and forward, grunting and gasping and gripping Simon’s arms to steady himself when he came. But after he came, he stuck around, reached around. He worked his callused hand up and down Simon’s cock until Simon spilled his seed, hot and sticky and messy, onto the bed beneath them both.

On the sixth night, Simon lay in bed with his arms over his head, Jayne sliding in and down and milking his cock with both fists at the same time. Jayne was doing all the work. Jayne hated hard work. But apparently Jayne didn’t consider this work. Every time Simon went to touch him or kiss him or do something—anything—Jayne insisted he not do a thing. Simon closed his eyes, wanting to relish every second of the pleasure. Then he opened his eyes again, realizing he was more turned on watching Jayne bringing them both to climax.

On the seventh night, Simon basked in the silence. It had been a week of nighttime visits, of fucks and kisses and the best sex Simon could ever remember having. By day, he still hated and distrusted the man. But by night he craved everything Jayne Cobb had to offer. They didn’t have to say a word to each other. Simon knew what the man thought, just by looking into his eyes, and he figured Jayne probably felt likewise. The rhythm was as familiar and comfortable. The touch was warm and tingly. Simon could barely imagine a night during which they didn’t do this. He never wanted it to stop.

On the eighth night, Simon said “no” and Jayne gave a start. He looked like he might murder Simon if he didn’t get to come. Or, worse yet, he looked like might murder everyone on the whole ship if Simon made him sit down and discuss what was going on. But Simon had no intention of letting either happen. He laid Jayne down on his bed. “Tonight, I’m taking charge.” Jayne tried to protest, tried to wriggle out from beneath Simon, straddling him. But Simon opened his mouth, relaxed his throat, and swallowed Jayne’s cock. Jayne cried out so loudly Simon almost jumped and bit down. But reached up, threw a pillow onto Jayne’s face to muffle the sound, and then circled his tongue over the head of Jayne’s cock before sucking in earnest.

On the ninth night, Simon was kept guessing. They did a little bit of everything. Simon felt the man’s hot cum hit the back of his throat. Simon thrust into Jayne’s tightly fisted hands. Simon felt fingers slide into him, probing and jabbing. Simon came once, twice, three times before the morning. He woke as Jayne was dressing and heading out, walking stiffly.

On the tenth night, Simon shuddered with excitement as Jayne kissed him. In fact, Jayne couldn’t seem to stop kissing him. Light, teasing kisses on Simon’s cock. Hard, sucking, biting kisses on Simon’s collarbone and neck. Simon knew he’d have marks the next day, but he didn’t care. The idea of wearing Jayne’s marks beneath his clothes all day was almost more exciting than the actual kisses themselves. Simon shuddered with excitement as Jayne applied kisses to his tender balls. He felt Jayne’s stubbly cheek rub his own again and again. It was worth it the next day to visit his infirmary and treat his skin where Jayne’s beard and stubble had burned his skin from too much rubbing.

On the eleventh night, Simon’s eyes lit up as Jayne produced a small box of cherries. There was something ironic about them that Simon couldn’t quite place his finger on. Jayne fed them to him. Jayne sucked one and passed it into Simon’s mouth. Jayne tickled him with a stem. And Jayne devoured his ass as if Simon himself were something rare and scrumptious.

On the twelfth night, Simon was amazed to find the silence broken. The once seemingly wholesome doctor heard words he didn’t even know the definition of as Jayne rambled on and on about how he was going to fuck Simon like he’d never been fucked. The man who usually didn’t say much at all, went on and on about Simon’s body, a thing he had grown to know intimately lately. Words like “passion,” “flush,” and “tingle.” Words like “taste,” and “slurp,” and “suck.” Words like “delight,” and “cherish,” and “love.” Words that made Simon come faster than he ever had.

On the thirteenth night, Simon lay in bed, waiting. Seconds, minutes, and hours ticked by and Jayne did not come to visit him. Simon considered getting up and going up to Jayne’s bunk. The idea of fucking Jayne there instead made his body hum with need. He touched himself, hoping at any moment Jayne would come in. But he fell asleep with his hand on his cock and did not wake until late morning when Mal knocked on his door, demanding something for a headache. “Be out in a minute!” Simon felt his eyes sting as he blinked fast and tucked himself into shorts.


End file.
